


Dirty deeds

by commencement



Category: Mad Dog (Korea TV)
Genre: Episode 5 outtake, F/M, Hate Sex, Rough Sex, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25883371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commencement/pseuds/commencement
Summary: “Come visit me when you’re bored.” He says.She goes.
Relationships: Kim Min Joon/Jang Ha Ri
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Dirty deeds

  
She’s not sure why she came here. Her feet seemed to walk up the stairs on their own until she was standing outside his door. His surveillance is top of the line and the door buzzes open before she has decided if she should knock or not.

“Bored already?” His voice is tinged with cool amusement.

She doesn't answer. He is leaning against the door frame with that smug fucking look on his face, like he is better than her. The same look he had every time he looked at her while they were sharing that tiny room at the research lab. And she wants to wipe it off his face, her fist didn't do the trick. Time for a new tactic.

She crosses the room getting close enough that she is closer than they were when she pushed him against the wall. Close enough that she can feel the heat radiating from his body, reminding her that he is actually human. 

She grabs the back of his neck and pulls his face to hers, there is something different in the way he looks at her in that moment. It’s not enough.

Their mouths meet in a clash of lips, teeth and tongue. Both of them fighting for dominance, neither willing to give an inch. He tastes like toothpaste and vodka and the sweet coppery tang of blood as she nips hard enough at his bottom lip.

She wants it like this. Fierce and violent and bruising. What she is doing, what they are doing is fucked up on so many levels. It should hurt, shouldn't it?

He grabs her shoulders hard enough to bruise her as he spins her around and pushes her against the wall. He is strong, she expected that, she saw him without a shirt enough times when they were cohabiting. His hands are rough and impatient as they tug at her belt and the buttons of her jeans.

That’s okay, she has no patience either. She tries to unbutton his shirt, but her fingers are clumsy and in the end she just tears it open with clawing hands.

His mouth is at her neck sucking, biting, hard enough that she will have bruises in the morning and the adrenaline makes everything feel more alive than she has felt since her father was still alive. SHe hates, hates, hates that it is him making her feel like this.

“Fuck.” She breathes the word more than she says it, but he seems to get the gist of it as he lifts her by the hips, and throws her on the bed. 

His hands find the waist of her jeans and pulls in a swift motion, She raises her hips enough so he can get them off her. And then he is tugging her shirt up and over her head. Her bra soon follows. The air conditioner makes goosebumps rise across her skin. 

There is something vulnerable about being almost fully naked when the other person is dressed. His shirt is open, but other than that he is covered in black, while she is armor less in the dark room. 

And then he is on top of her, pushing her down on the bed,, pinning her with his body and hands. She wants to be on top, but he wont let her, the soft duvet has too much give for her to flip them around. 

She feels his hands at her crotch and the sound of ripping fabric as he tears the flimsy cotton of her panties and then there is pressure, and unyielding hardness as he is pushing into her. 

She is wet enough that it works, not wet enough for it not to burn. That's fine, she is walking on barbed wire here, it shouldn’t be comfortable. 

She bites down on his shoulder in retaliation, or to keep herself from making a noise, she’s not sure.

After a few strokes she adjusts to him, her knees hike up to help her get her hips in the right angle, and there it is. Every stroke fans the flames and she can feel him brushing past that spot deep inside her every time he pushes in. 

His pubic bone against her clit, and it will be enough. Enough to make her come. 

His hands change position pulling one of her legs across his elbow and he is deep inside her. Deeper than she thought was possible. 

It’s rough and hard and filthy. A part of her is disgusted by how much she likes it. He is a con-man, a liar, and probably a sociopath. But still… It’s been a long time since the last time she had sex, even longer since it was good sex. 

It's like being underwater the ebb and flow of his movement is as unforgiving and constant as the tides. The rushing of blood in her ears even sounds like the ocean.

There is a tension, building, building until she feels like she is about to snap. And then his hand closes around her neck. The weight of his body and his palm and fingers against her throat almost completely cuts off her breathing, she feels herself get dizzy and lightheaded. Then the world explodes in white. Bright, sparkling ecstasy that fades the corners of her vision until there is nothing but oblivion.

She wakes up alone. White sheets covering most of the furniture. Dark bruises across her body, the darkest around her throat. 

She makes sure no one sees her when she leaves the building. Answers the phone with a hoarseness she claims is from a flu when Pentium calls. Covers her bruises with make-up. Goes back to work. 

  
  
  



End file.
